Date: 31 Dec 1998 16:24:42 -0800
From: poondu@members.gayweb.com
Subject: Jamis

Along this Way, with my Self so entwined with my fantasy, its hard to know
which events are truth and which fiction; they are all truths in my heart
and it has been said before in my writing: If it didn't really happen this
way then it should have.

				   Jamis
		   by Thole <poondu@members.gayweb.com>

On almost any weekend camp the boys will get along with each other well
enough. I've found, after many years of Scout leading, that they seem quite
capable of ignoring or avoiding any personality conflicts for a one or two
night camp. Usually the excitement of travel, arriving late and setting up
keeps everyone to busy to think much about themselves. The rigors and
exhaustion of the second day do a good job of insuring a quiet second
night, and then we're home. Except for an occasional rainy Saturday, most
camps go without a flare-up or a homesick kid.

The fortnight summer camp is very different. These boys, with whom you've
met for an hour or so once a week, camped with overnight here and there,
become different creatures at summer camp. Some, who've missed most or all
the weekends cos they interfere with school or sports, will go to summer
camp and work devilishly hard to make it up. Usually their parents have
gone equally as far in the other direction for their vacation. Some, who've
been on every camp all winter, never missed a meeting, won't go; sometimes
its financial, sometimes summer school, or they go with their parents on
vacation. This time it was a different storey.

Jamis was thirteen that summer, the youngest of three, he had a brother in
the group two years older and a sister in the Guides. They lived with their
mother, and her mother, in a flat near the centre of town. Jamis was one of
my special kids; I kept an eye on him. Not that he was a trouble maker, but
he needed a role model. He and his brother had come in together and
although they each ran with their own peers during the day they always
shared a tent in the same patrol.

The younger boy didn't go to summer camp last year, his brother said he
wasn't ready; we had a pretty full group and I never gave it a second
thought. This year, as plans were shaping up, the older boy would be going
to an Outward Bound sailing camp; he needed more than I could give him and
he didn't have the leadership abilities to make him worth my trying to
keep. Jamis wouldn't be at camp either.

Why not, I asked my self. He's certainly ready, he's had a year of
training, he's among that grouping of age, rank, needs and ability who
could make the most of summer camp. Not to mention that I knew he would
waste away the fortnight that everyone else was busy at camp; a prime
candidate for trouble. If he didn't go to this camp he most likely wouldn't
be back in the fall. Why not.

His brother wouldn't talk at first; the usual sibling rivalry was turned
around here, fierce loyalty. They had a pact or some promise between
them. I'd never been to visit their home for more than tea so really had no
idea what went on there and had had very little contact with their
mother. She worked long hours whilst her mother ran the house. It seemed to
be working out ok; the kids were always clean and well dressed. The boys
quite often took advantage of the group's fund raising efforts and second
hand uniform parts so I mostly left them alone. But this would be a
waste. I had to get Jamis to camp.

I knew the older boy had to take a day off school to go to an orientation
session for his Outward Bound camp; his mother would have to miss a work
day to drive. Hoping to demonstrate the degree of my concern, I arranged
for a substitute teacher to take my place so I could drive him. On the long
drive I had a captive audience and rambled on about a lot of things,
dropping hints here and there to let this boy know there were ways out of
what I suspected was a pact with his brother without really breaking his
promise. And besides, if it really was that important, what ever love he
had for his brother would be for naught if the kid got in trouble whilst
neither of us could look after him.

--How will you feel about that, I asked.

The boy broke, but only part way. Almost crying, he told of how his little
brother still wets at night, not always but sometimes: --...on the second
night its not so bad, we pack up carefully, Jamis washes and no one
knows. If it happens on the first night then we sometimes sleep together
the second...

All the details covered nicely; I complemented him on his caring and
loyalty.

--You mustn't tell him I told; it'll ruin everything. If you can get him to
tell you then I'll help, I'll do anything to get him to camp, he does need
to have a go of it alone.

I waited for Jamis in the park where I knew he'd pass by on his way home
from school.

--Jamie, come and sit with me...

We sat in the warm sun, close enough to converse in low voices, apart
enough to be safe in one's own territory. I told him how concerned I was
that he wasn't going to camp; that I couldn't believe he just didn't want
to and went on to take apart all the obvious reasons. Jamie, that only
leaves one or two others, I finally said, and now I'm going to take a big
chance; but I want you to understand that I'm doing this 'cause I love you
Jamie; not like a man loves a woman; nor like brothers love one another
though that's closer to it, but more like how two men who are depending for
their lives on the trust they have in each other. I'm not trying to buy
your secret with mine. If I'm right we'll share a little of each other; if
I'm wrong I expect you'll at least keep my secret along with yours. He'd
been sitting there, mostly staring ahead, a nod here and there, but I knew
I was close now. He was looking at me, sort of sideways, his long black
hair hanging out of a red bandanna, looking at me through a jungle. I use
to wet the bed too Jamie. When I first went to camp I slept alone. I had no
one I could trust; not an older brother, not a best friend. I hardly ever
slept over at a friend's and when I did it was almost embarrassing to have
to refuse a bedtime snack. But not so bad as if I'd wet a friend's bed. I'd
force myself to pee before I went to bed and force myself to wake up at
night to be sure. I made it through that time but I still don't share my
tent, I still sleep alone. Every now and then when I'm really tired or
having some sort of wet dream I'll wake up in a puddle.

He flung himself around my neck, tears in his eyes: --I want to go to camp,
I want to go so bad, but I'm scared they'll laugh at me.

--Ok, let's go someplace and get a coke and talk this out. I have a plan to
get you through camp and we've just gotten over the worst part.

--Let's go to my house, my mum will be happy to know.

The plan was really pretty simple. I'd have a couple of extra sleeping bags
available, it would be a rule that everyone would air out their bags whilst
we were at breakfast, and I would wake him before I went to bed and see
that he was first up in the morning. And if all else failed I had access to
a washer and dryer if we ran out of sleeping bags. For his part there were
to be no drinks after supper or at best only a sip or two of water if he
were really thirsty. He could bring PJs, they'd be on the list, but he was
to sleep in his skin; there would be less to wash that way. Even his mother
agreed to that.

The first three days of camp were hectic. I had arranged for Jamis's patrol
to be the Headquarter's Patrol so they would be closest to my tent; it was
also arranged that Jamis would be camp QM. This took a little doing since
it meant that he would be alone in that tent and three other boys would
share a tent made for two. But I already knew they'd rather enjoy that so
there was no problem.

The sights and sounds of summer camp always get me excited. The clamor of
all those naked boys in the showers is one noise I look forward to. But it
has always been look, don't touch. The first night Jamis did well; hardly
slept at all, he woke readily when I called to him at one in the
morning. The second night took its toll. He was exhausted. I finally
carried his naked body out onto the grass and held him there to pee. I must
teach this kid to wash under his foreskin, the cheese was thick. Back to
his sack, I doubt he was ever really awake.

By the fourth day a strain was beginning to show. He was quiet, withdrawn,
probly homesick. Some rain started that afternoon and there were the usual
dumb questions about airing the sleeping bags in the morning. That night
when I went to wake him rain drummed steadily on the tent. I slipped my
hand into the open side of his sack and felt for him. I'd been waking him
this way since the second night; reach in, feel his limp prick, sometimes
it would get hard quickly, rub round and round on his tummy and chest till
he woke. He was soaked, as wet as the grass outside. I'll let him sleep in
it, better to have one wet bag than two.

All the flaps were down as I made one last turn about the camp. The three
boys in one tent were talking and giggling in low tones. I stood by their
tent with my head in the flap listening to the wet sounds of youth at play;
all three were in the same bag. One of them must be getting it from both
ends at once. I made a small scuffing sound against the tent: --shhhh! what
was that? ...silence... --probly a squirrel or something. ...silence... No
squirrel guys, I whispered back, just an appreciative audience. Its Ok,
whatever you're doing in there, just be quiet or you'll have the whole
troop in here.

--Thanks Mr. Scot. Ya, thanks, we'll be quiet.

--That's Ok kids, don't be talking with your mouth full.

It would be interesting to look them in the eye next morning, I thought, as
I made my way back to my tent.

Great rumbles of thunder and lightning interrupted my reading for a while
and the storm was still crashing and banging around out there as I
undressed and slipped into my sack. In a lull between thunders I thought I
could hear a mewling or whimpering, then another great crash and the
whimpering was louder.

--Who is there? Between the sniffling and mewling I made out the small,
scared voice of Jamis. I got up and opened the flap. He was standing out
beyond the awning of my tent, soaking wet PJs clinging to his body,
standing in the rain, crying now.

--Come in, Jamis, what can I do for you?

--Oh I'm so scared, Mr. Scot, please can I stay here, please, I can sleep
on the floor, please?

--Calm down Jamis, calm down. We'll see about sleeping on the floor but
let's get you out of those wet things and dried off.

I helped him out of his wet PJs and he stood there and let me dry him. His
skin was cold, he must have been out there for a while; well, I thought, at
least all the pee is washed off by now. I secured the flap and helped him
into my bag, he was asleep before I had it zipped. I lay awake for a while,
my throbbing hardon dripping pre-cum on his belly. I hadn't had a boy this
close in a long while.

We woke early to a crisp, cool, bright morning, got his sleeping bag out
and headed to the shower before the camp was awake. He was avoiding my eye
and reluctant to talk, walking along behind. Finally I waited for him to
catch up and put my arm around him.

--Look Jamis, you've got nothing to be ashamed about. Snap out of it before
you wreck the whole week and give it all away.

--I'm sorry I wet last night Mr. Scott, I'm sorry I woke you up, I was
doing so good and I blew it...

His words ran on, sobbing... I stopped, knelt down to meet him eye to eye:
--You're doing fine Jamis and you'll get better. Don't be so hard on
yourself and it won't hurt so much. Now, let's get a nice hot shower...

...come over here Jamie and I'll wash your back, then you can wash mine if
you will. We got three shower heads going in a corner and stood together in
the cross spray. I held one hand on his chest and scrubbed his back with
the other. I worked my way down, one hand at his groin, the other washing
the tops of his buns.

--Mr. Scot, how come sometimes my dink gets hard?

--Well, usually it gets hard when you're excited sexually. Sometimes,
especially in the morning, it'll get hard cause you need to pee; are you
getting hard now?

--Ya! it feels good when you wash me and my dink gets hard.

--Speaking of dinks, I said, did anyone ever teach you how to wash inside
it?

--No.

I turned him to me, his hands covered his erection. Look, I said as I put
my hands between his and moved them aside, hardons are nothing to be
ashamed of or afraid of; boys get them all the time. Your penis is a tool
and a toy and a part of you and just like any other tool or toy or part of
you, you need to know what its for and how to use it and how to keep it
clean. I pushed back his foreskin and explained how the white paste called
smegma needed to be washed away and how he should pull back his foreskin
whenever he peed to keep it cleaner longer; all this whilst soaping and
rinsing a couple of times. Best not to push it too fast, I thought, as I
let him wash my back, we still have a week.

--That was fun, he said on the way back to camp, can we do it again?

--Anytime Jamie, that you can get up before I do, Ok?

--Ok.

Three days later I woke in the early twilight to feel a hand going round
and round on my belly. It was Jamis, waking me the same way I wake
him.

--Hey come on sleepy, its time for a shower, he said.

A towel over one naked shoulder and his tattered cut-offs, already a size
too small and coming apart in all the right places, were all he had on; but
he was awake before me. We were in the shower before he spoke again.

--I'm doin' good ain't I Mr. Scot, huh? I ain't peed in three days and I'm
gonna make it through the week.

--Yes, I agreed, you're doing well and I am proud of you Jamis.

--Will you still love me after camp like you said before we came here?

--Yes, I'll always love you, you're a neat kid , Jamie.

Something was happening here, I thought, I wasn't sure what; he offered the
back wash this time.

--I been thinking about last time; what you said about my dink being a tool
and a toy. Once when I was about eight or seven my sister and I were in the
tub and she showed me how my dink would fit in her... her... Cunt, I added,
or vagina if you prefer. Mum heard us laughing and came in yelling all over
and spanked me bad; somehow it was all my fault. I guess that's using my
tool for the wrong job, eh?

Before I could reply he spun around in front: --My turn, here's the soap.

I was almost done when he spoke: --When you talked about toy did you mean
like when other kids... and his hand motion to the side was
unmistakable. We switched places, I sat down to give him better access to
my shoulders and he soaped my back again. When he was done there he asked
if we could wash the rest of each other and almost without waiting
continued down my legs: --Mr. Scot, do kids really suck each others dinks?
Do they get hard then?

He was standing in front of me again; I was washing his chest, answering
these questions and thinking of some to ask him, his hardon pointing up and
mine pointing down: Yes Jamie, sometimes kids suck each other.

--Is that like masturbation or getting molested?

--Well, they're all related, but different. I was soaping around his back
again now, holding him between my hands; Masturbation is when you make
yourself come with your hand. Everything else is either play, molestation
or rape.

--Like?

Like, well, sucking is like riding bikes and flying kites and climbing
trees; its something boys do with each other when they're not just sleeping
over. Some go on to sucking girls others to being Scout leaders. Somewhere
along the line if the age difference is great enough between the partners
the sex part of this play is called child molesting no matter who started
it. Flying kites is Ok but sucking isn't. Skinny dipping or showering
together is a toss-up.

--What's a toss-up?

--It depends on whether you get caught by your friends or someone else. It
depends on how many kids are in the pool. Rape is when force is used, it
doesn't matter, really, about age then, just that one forces the other.

--Are you molesting me now?

--First, remember that this was your idea; and second, remember that this
goes back to when you first stood in the rain at my tent and I took you
in. I could have sent you back to your pee-soaked bag. And remember too,
our first walk in the park, the things about love. None of that matters
though to those who don't understand or don't care. Sending you back in the
rain could be cruelty to children or character building, but taking you in
is almost sure to be thought of as molesting you.

--I'd rather be molested than sent into the rain.

--Ah! you see? that is the kind of coercion that would make it molesting
for sure and as long as you are young enough that it might be defined as
molesting you are not allowed any choice.

--I like being molested, its fun.

--If its fun then let us not call it molesting. Call it play or love, I
said looking up from where I sat in front of him.

--Is it ok for a man to love a boy?

--What is a boy and when is he a man Jamis? In some times and places it has
been and still is ok, but here and now it is better to be uncaring, and
cruel even; love between a man and a boy is persecuted and must be held
secret. I had soaped him over twice and now made a deliberate move to
massage his balls and prick and buns all together in the soap. Then, as I
turned him to the hot spray he spoke again.

--Do you want to suck me?

--I pulled his squeaky clean hardon into my mouth, he held onto my head and
came quickly. Is that your first time?

--No, you lose there. My brother did that to me once before.

--Why did you ask me if kids sucked each other?

--Cause I didn't really know, I thought it was something only brothers did
or maybe he was strange. I never did it to him.

--Why not?

--I dunno. He never asked? never said I should, or had to, I dunno.

We'd been out for a long while and soon the camp would be up and about:
--Let's get out of here Jamie, we can continue this talk another time.

--Wait! Don't you want me to suck you off?

The pleading pathos, to be wanted, to do his share, the ache in my groin
were all so overwhelming...

--The best honest answer to that is yes Jamis, but the real question is do
you want to, really want to; without coercion. It must be your choice with
no feeling of obligation. I did it because I knew it would please you and
because it pleases me. As the saying goes: If it feels good, do it. Think
about it Jamie, we'll talk more later.

The day went by without much sight of Jamis, he was getting ready for an
outpost camp and I was busy with the new kids and the records. That night I
dutifully got him up to pee and then lay in my bunk, half awake, expecting,
wishing him to come to me. In the morning I asked him how he planned to
deal with his wetting problem on his outpost camp.

--I think I'm over that now; I'm just gonna stay dry.

The day after the four returned was our last full day in camp. Each of
these boys handed in an essay report on their experience and then, in turn,
stood before me for a verbal quiz. The essays were all similar for the most
part, not copied mind you but all showing definite signs of collaboration.
Jamis's had some additional comments about an initiation and a proud, bold
statement of how he stayed dry. During the verbal quiz of the third boy I
began to realise that these three were The Three in the tent together that
night in the rain and I caught an inkling of what Jamis was going to tell
me his initiation was. But he didn't. When pressed on the subject he told
only that it was a secret, he had been the new kid at camp but now he was a
vet, and besides: --You know all about that stuff, you been there before.

Everyone was happy at supper that night. Many dads showed up to camp over
and take their sons home the next day. At our closing fire those boys who's
fathers were not there stood with their friends' fathers; Jamis, by his own
choosing, stood with me. After the last award and the last song and the
cocoa the kids went off to bed and I sat by the fire with the dads telling
each one how his kid did or why he didn't. The boys were all asleep a
couple of hours before the fathers finally turned in and I was able to look
in on Jamis.

He was asleep when I started to rub his tummy, I knew he was awake when he
took my hand and moved it to his pecker and guided me to stroke it. Wait a
minute, I whispered, save that, get up and pee. He stood out on the grass,
beautiful, naked, dappled in the moonlight, his arc of pee glistening
through the woods. I whispered goodnight, slapped his ass and headed for my
tent.

--Wait! He caught my hand. Nearly everyone else is doubled up tonight...
can I sleep with you?

--I have to ask you Jamis, is this for me or for you?

--For us; and besides, between friends I can tell you about my initiation;
at the quiz I couldn't, we weren't friends.

On my bunk we lay close, the flap open, the whole camp in view in the
moonlight: --After we cooked supper an I was busy cleaning up, each of the
others took a turn in the tent to arrange his sleeping bag and, I didn't
know it at the time, to put on extra sox and underwear. We were all only
wearing tee shirts and shorts when we started you know, and sox and boots
and stuff; but they put on extra. Then later, Jacky suggested we get
undressed for bed by playing strip poker. Of course everyone agreed. I
tried not to be too slow. Then one of the guys asked, What are the stakes?
and Jacky replied: One piece of clothes for each hand you lose and the
first one naked has to suck everyone else. They all looked at me and I said
Ok.

After the first few rounds we had each lost a tee shirt or more. I thought
I was doing pretty good till one of the kids took off his undershorts and
had another pair on underneath. The others giggled at my surprise and I
knew I was trapped. I tried hard to win but three hands later I was lying
naked on my back whilst they played to see who would get me first. Finally
the game was over; everyone looked kinda weird, blue skin from the
moonlight through the tent. Peter won first: Ok kid, suck me, he said in a
kind of mock serious voice, and go slow; this is my first time you
know. Ya, we know. Its an honour being a virgin's first suck. He laid back
and pulled my head down to his hardon. Up close it was almost scary, he
pushed himself into my mouth and used my head like his hand. Lick me; use
your tongue. He moaned and lifted up and came into my mouth and held my
head so I had to swallow his cum. Most of it anyhow. Then Marc pulled me
off Peter and over onto my back. He sat on my chest and then lay on my
face. At first I almost gagged but then it was like he was doing pushups on
my face and when he came he pulled out and squirted all over my face;
everyone laughed, even me. Then it was Jacky's turn. He rearranged
everything and we lay down together so he could suck me at the same
time. That was great! I held his buns and we rolled back and forth. I came
into him and he came into me and it was like stars and fireworks and spring
and kites and wow... Then we all got into a pile between the sleeping bags
and lay quiet but talking about other things. After a while Jacky started
petting me and I did the same to Marc and soon we were all sucking round in
a circle. I remember cumming again but then I fell asleep. Later, I woke
up, my face all sticky with cum. One of the others was on his hands and
knees above me with his dink dripping in my face. He was sucking me and I
could see someone else sticking their dink in his ass. I started to suck
him for a while but then I had to pee so I got up and went outside.

And that's all. Everyone went to sleep after that. In the morning they were
somehow different. We didn't talk about it but instead of telling me to do
everything they did it with me. I guess I passed, eh?

--Well, Jamie, that was quite an adventure. Are you sure you don't feel
like you're betraying their trust?

--No, somehow its different, I wouldn't tell them what we did, but I think
its ok to tell you.

--What does all this have to do with your bedwetting?

--I don't know, but somehow I feel better; I'm not scared anymore without
my brother. I have some other brothers now. Its ok.

--Well you've had quite a day and...

--Wait! he interrupted: Can I suck you, please, I really want to.

His hand was exploring my crotch and like before, without waiting for my
approval, he wriggled around and went to work. I picked him up and laid him
on my face and took him in balls and all and milked him dry until he was
about to pee. He swallowed my cum and after a while came back to face me:
--Did you ever do that with any of the other boys? he asked.

Its really best if you didn't know that Jamis, but I will say that Jacky
use to wet the bed too.

				   -30-